


Not Broken, But Bent.

by SomeoneToCarryYou



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor Loki Movies
Genre: Alternative Universe Avengers, And angst, But there is fluff, Everyone is sick basically, F/F, F/M, M/M, and humor, and hurt/comfort, its cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeoneToCarryYou/pseuds/SomeoneToCarryYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avengers/Marvel AU: </p><p>Tony Stark is the mysterious engineer head of the famed Stark Industries. He's also nineteen years old, an orphan since he was fifteen when his father crashed their car and killed himself and his wife. Tony is captured in Afghanistan shortly after and left in a debilitating condition with little chance of survival. His legal guardian Pepper decides he needs some friends and starts the Stark Industries Services Program that enables her to pick a handful of troubled young adults with dangerous health conditions and extreme extenuating circumstances to live in the tower and have Tony help built tools to help them get around. He decides to do everything he can to fix his new roommates before he dies and sets out to rebuild their lives whether they like it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...It's a nest?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All! My first attempt at an Au for the Avengers, or at all. So the idea is that instead of superpowers the avengers have physical and mental issues. Steve is pre-Serum, Bucky lost his arm, Clint is deaf and is recovering from breast cancer, Natasha was taken to the Red Room again and brainwashed and tortured before Clint could save her. She doesn't recognize him, but she knows she trusts him. Bruce has epilepsy and Dissociative Personality Disorder. Tony's problems you discover as time goes on. Thor and Loki also feature in this. They are still Asgardian. Bruce still turns into the Hulk. It's bascially some rag tag kids fixing each other and becoming a family. 
> 
> OH and the title belongs to the lyrics of P!nk's song "Try". Awesome song.

“Welcome to Stark Industries!”

The teenagers huddle in ragged pairs, feeling dwarfed in the massive sleek stone lobby. The speaker is a beautiful woman with a ponytail of pin straight red hair, a kind face dotted with freckles, and sharp eyes. She’s extremely put together in a fitted white dress and blazer with matching pumps. She’s a strange mix of terrifyingly intimidating and radiating warmth. 

“My name is Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. Thank you all for accepting our invitation. If you’d please follow me, we can head up to the penthouse.”

She turns sharply on her heel and summons the elevator to a press of her index finger. Cautiously, the strangers shuffle after her and into the elevator. Ms. Potts pressed her full palm against the wall and it lights up. “Pepper Potts identification accepted.” She smiled briefly and orders “Penthouse please”, before the elevator gently beings to move. There was a pale shrimpy blond boy hunched against his companion. The boy has a strong determine look, but his body is wasting away under his jean jacket and white tee shirt. His head rests comfortably on the toned chest of his scowling friend. He looks all hard edges, brown hair tied back in a short ponytail and arms and hands hidden under a baggy black sweatshirt and black gloves. Both boys wore oversized jeans worn out at the hem and knee and carried their things in plastic bags. 

The other pair is a lethal looking red haired girl in some pseudo military uniform. Her hair is braided up against her hair and while pretty, she looks like the type of person who could kill you with a pencil. Her stance is parade rest and dark critical eyes are fixed on the exit. Next to her is casually slumped a short boy with almost buzzed hair and tired eyes. He has scars on his knuckles, arms, and face and is wearing a plain purple shirt and jeans. He appears bizarrely comfortable being so close to the terrifying girl, and he even rests his hand on hers’ briefly as they move their single matching suitcases onto the lift. 

Hiding in the corner is a tall gangly boy with wild hair and big rectangular glasses. His clothes are dirty and rumpled and his shirt and slacks don’t match. He flinches every few seconds, and keeps rubbing his jaw. He only has an old backpack with him. They all studiously avoid making eye contact until the elevator glides to a stop. Pepper leads them into a common area with a large comfortable looking white rounded couch, a big screen mounted on the wall, an elevated kitchen visible from the living room, and big windows with screens. 

“Well, welcome again. This is the living room, and that’s the kitchen obviously. There are hallways to your left and right that lead to rooms with your names’ on the door, individually designed by Mr. Stark for you. The Workshop is where Mr. Stark spends a lot of time working, but there is a gym, a swimming pool, a spa, a library, a medical unit, yoga rooms, archery range, art studio, and pretty much everything else you could think of. Just step in the elevator and say where you’d like to go. Oh before I forget!” She snagged a Stark pad from the counter and tapped in some passwords till it lit up. “Put your hands on the screen and say the name you’d like to be referred to as. This way you have access to everything.”

“Steve Rogers.” 

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Natasha Romanoff.” 

“Clint Barton.” 

“Bruce Banner.”

“Excellent. Oh and the Odinsons may drop by time to time, so don’t be shocked if you see two strange boys around. Thor is Prince of Asgard and his brother Loki is Prince of Jotuns. They practically grew up with Mr. Stark and they like to pop in unannounced. Now, as you know, this is a very quiet program not being done for publicity. Each of you was selected because you had serious conditions and very extreme extenuating circumstances. You will not be forced to stay if you want to leave at any point, but Mr. Stark will be actively working to help design cures and conveniences for your individual conditions. Mr. Stark will not discuss the events that occurred in Afghanistan and please refrain from commenting on the arc reactor. If he acts like a dick, give him coffee.”

All eyes blinked in surprise. 

“He’s my boss, and I love him dearly, but he’s a grumpy genius insomniac. Speaking of which, Jarvis, where is he?”

A disembodied voice with a slight male British accent replied, “Sir is currently unavailable to receive guests at the moment.” 

“Who was that?” Steve whispered to Bucky, who shrugged. 

“Sorry, I forgot to mention, Jarvis is the artificial intelligence unit Tony built to run the tower and help him. Jarvis tell him to get his ass in here now and stop building a death ray.”

There was a pregnant pause before Jarvis replied. “I am sorry Ms. Potts, but Sir would like me to tell you the shrapnel is moving and his oxygen levels are depleted. He is currently in his lab hooked up to his oxygen tank. And he would like me to add that death rays are, and I quote “so last year”.” 

Pepper pursed her lips and sighed. “At least he’s got the oxygen tank this time.” She turned and looked more weary and human. “Mr. Stark had not recovered fully from the car accident when he suffered the events of Afghanistan and has not made a recovery yet. And probably never will.” 

The elevator dinged, and when the doors opened, a spikey haired teenager stumbled out with an oxygen mask over his goatee and the tank clunking behind him on a stand. He pulled the mask aside to glare at Pepper. “I’m here.” She rolled her eyes in response and gestured to the guests who were awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other. “Oh. Hey. My name’s Tony, welcome to the Tower. I’m-“ he hacked a cough and took a long drag of oxygen, blushing in embarrassment, “I’m guessing Pep gave you the low-down on everything. I need to finish a project for the investors, so how about we take two days to figure shit out and adjust, then we can set up meetings so I can see what I can do to help?” Everyone hesitated and nodded before Tony clapped his hands, strapped his mask back on and clunked back into the elevator. 

They wandered down the hallways until they found doors that slid open, each with their name painted on differently. 

Clint’s was spray painted, which he thoroughly approved of. The floors were bamboo wood and the walls were painted dark green. He had a big comfy bed with a green comforter and a big dart board on the wall. There was a shelf of odd little things, putty, clay, legos, fuzzy balls, strings, all of which Clint was surprised at and grateful for. He always needed something in his hands, and he’d been given a good stock of stuff. Hooks for decorations had been put on the walls, left for Clint to decide on. There was an electric piano keyboard against the wall, with books of blank sheet music. The bathroom had a tub and shower, small but good, and he laughed in surprise at the hammock hung over his bed, previously unnoticed, and direct access to the vents. Stark really had done his research. Clint scampered to the hammock and settle in with a happy sigh. 

Natasha eyed the delicate etching of her name, surrounded with little watercolor flowers. There was a closet which would be useful. The bathroom was ridiculously oversized compared to what she had always had at the Dormitory. The bed was unconventional. It was a nest. A large nest made carefully with wood to look like twigs. The nest was full of large soft patterned eggs. She scoffed internally, and commenced hiding her weapons for emergencies. There was a desk and bookshelves stocked with dozens of manuscripts to her delight. CDs of Russian ballet music and ballet shoes were tucked into the night stand, and there was a series of childish glow in the dark stars on her ceiling, which she absolutely did not find sweet, Not at all. No way. But when she cautious settled into the ridiculous nest, she found a warm blanket at the bottom. The nest was warm, soft and enveloping in a way she had never experiences before, and strangely enough felt herself drifting off. 

Steve and Bucky had separate rooms but a conjoined bathroom, and both had bunk beds, so their anxiety about having separate rooms was somewhat diminished. The walls were a distracting but pleasant mix of exposed brick and stone with clean crisp sheets and an old fashioned radio. A sketch pad had been propped up against Steve’s bed, and he had an amazing view of the skyline. Bucky had a corner room which his paranoia appreciated. His closet was full of long sleeved shirts and gloves, and there was a computer on his desktop. He was surprised Stark knew he didn’t like laptops, and there was a pair of dancing shoes tucked in the corner of his mirrored closet, earning a chuckle. It had been a long time since the young man had danced. 

Bruce had a blue room. Based on his…condition…everyone assumed he liked green, so the shy gangly teen was surprised he had a big blue room with a lofted bed and a bona fide chemistry set underneath. The rug was soft and someone had designed a mini yoga mediation area with incense holders and a yoga mat. Nuclear physics and quantum theory textbooks made a leaning tower next to a big blue beanbag chair. Everything was soothing, relaxed and rounded. He rubbed what felt like an almost tear from his eye and climbed up on the bed. A screen flickered to life on the ceiling, playing nature documentaries, and he slid his glasses into a convenient little nook on the bed frame. Bruce knew a fair amount about the famous Tony Stark, had a list of memorized facts and characteristics, but as he drifted off with a smile for the first time in years, he added “nice” to the list in his head. 

Meanwhile in the lab, Tony fought his way out of a panic attack on the cold floor of his workshop, Jarvis playing soft music as he gasped brokenly into the oxygen mask. DumE rolled forward with a wheel chair and helped Tony climb into it so he could roll over to the ratty little couch in the corner. DumE helpfully dragged the oxygen tank behind him, chirping happily. Tony had a lot of doubts about this service program. He didn’t get people. They were weird and irrational and emotional. Machines made sense, they had wires and batteries and switches. Logic could tell you what to do, but people rarely seemed to behave with logic in mind. He was sure to step on proverbial landmines with so many strangers in his house. Pep was just trying to help, he knew, but she didn’t see him the way most humans did. Most humans saw Tony as a means to an end. Pep cared, and worried.

He understood they weren’t perfect either, but they had experience with other human beings in a nonbusiness setting and that was more than he could say. Plus what if they were here to get information on just how bad his condition was so they could sell it to a magazine? He had poured over their files before they’d arrived, designed individual rooms specifically for them, but those were computerized files and these were humans. Steve had asthma and sickle cell anemia and heart conditions and skin conditions and needed help walking most days, but he was scrappy, an orphan with a bad temper and big heart. His self-appointed bodyguard was fellow orphan James Bucky Barnes, who had been competing in illegal boxing rings to earn cash for Steve’s medical bills and pissed off the wrong people, costing him an arm and his income. Clint and Natasha worked for Coulson, Fury, and Hill at SHIELD. 

Clint had been recruited from the circus and did assassinations and espionage for the secretive government organization until his battle with breast cancer. Natasha had been raised in the Red Room, saved by SHEILD and hired as Clint’s partner. Two years ago the Red Room had stolen her back and only recently had Clint and SHEILD recovered her. Her memories were wiped and she had all kinds of Russian reprogramming swirling in her head.

Bruce was a child prodigy like Tony, except his was better at biology and chemistry. His dad had been abusive and had murdered Bruce’s mom right in front of him. This had worsened Bruce’s epilepsy and been so stressful on his head that he suffered a personality split, added to by his dad making him drink toxic concoctions for fun. Bruce had killed his father, or rather his alternate personality had, and now he lost his scholarship to college.

It was a puzzle, how to help them, and God knows he loved a good puzzle. He could only hope they would leave soon and he could get his house back. Tony settled into the couch and Jarvis switched soundtracks as DumE adjusted the oxygen mask so Tony wouldn’t choke in his sleep. Tony tugged a blanket over him and DumE snuggled in best he could. As Jarvis dimmed the lights, Tony felt the pain of his nightmares stirring and fell into a restful sleep.


	2. Settling In (AKA Bruce Practically Moves Into the Library and Clint likes the Vents)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Au Avengers slowly get used to their new home and Steve is sentimental.

The next day passed with everyone studiously and actively avoiding each other. It was not a malicious avoidance, but one born of awkwardness. Clint explored the vents and brought a sharpie to leave little reminders. Left turn from main = Kitchen, Right, Left, Right was Bruce’s room. Nat spent half the day with him, mapping possible exits and origins of attack, and then spent the rest of the day cleaning her weapons. You could eat dinner off one of her serrated knives. But it was generally not a good idea to say that, because she might tell you about the time she skewered a rabbit on that knife and ate it raw. She also would then make a point of wearing bunny slippers the next few days. 

Bruce had actually left his room late his first night. He didn’t get a lot of sleep these days, and he wandered into the elevator when Jarvis asked where he’d like to go. Half asleep, he had shoved his glasses back on his face and muttered “somewhere not too quiet but not loud”. He needed balance, craved balance. Jarvis took his hand print and gently lowered the elevator until Bruce was in a library that rivaled the beautiful one in his favorite movie, Beauty and the Beast. Thousands upon thousands of books. He danced down the halls, fingers skimming over the colorful textured spines until he snagged an old notebook in Pashtu and settled into an armchair. Unasked, Jarvis began filtering in the soft sound of a piano, and Bruce hadn’t left that spot since. 

Steve woke up hacking and coughing, with Bucky supporting him and running a wet towel over Steve’s feverish face. “C’mon punk, we just got a big old free mansion and you decide to sweat yourself to death? And you know if you die I’m going to have to go to Hell and drag you back, and that’s gonna be hot, and I don’t like hot, you know that.”   
Steve wrapped clammy thin fingers around his best friend’s wrist. “Always such a whiner.”

Jarvis piped in from the ceiling. “Masters Steve and Bucky, would you like to be moved to the medical unit?”

Bucky nodded but Steve rolled his eyes. “No thank you Mister Jarvis. I’m fine. Can you raise the room temperature a bit though please?”

The room heated up and Steve let his head tilt back so he could get a good look at Bucky. Bucky pursed his lips and arched an eyebrow before launching in a tickle revenge attack. Steve spent the rest of his time propped up next to the window sketching. Water colors, oil based, charcoal, there was every kind of drawing tool he’d ever seen through the thick glass of the art stores. Bucky fussed like a mother hen, and otherwise just sat around, deep in thought. He had a way of thinking, deep and pensive that showed clear as day on his young face, aging him into an old man. He always had old eyes, even Mrs. Barnes had said so when they were kids living in apartments across the hall from one and other. “He’s got old eyes my little devil. Must be a little old man soul living in you! Not that you have any wisdom to show for it! What were you thinking, fire is never the answer young man!” Steve used to ask what Bucky was thinking about, but now he had figured it out. He was thinking about their parents. The soft hearted hard working Barnes family, house dotted with embroidery and hand knit blankets. The apple pie Mrs. Barnes would make and set out on the window sill. The way she put on her old music and danced with them around the little round kitchen table. The way Mr. Barnes laughed with his whole body, and the way he was always touching people. He was always hugging or kissing or rustling someone’s hair in world weary affection. They’d died in a fire started in the apartment next door while Bucky was at school. It has been the day before Bucky’s birthday. They had outlived Mrs. And Mr. Rogers by three years, Mr. Rogers dying in combat overseas, and Mrs. Rogers catching some superbug at the hospital she loved, dying after months of agony. Steve had lived with his best friend Bucky after his parents passed, but when the Barnes’ died they had nowhere to go but St. Agatha’s Home for Children. Steve’s host of medical problems caught up to him in the cramped little house. He’d always been sickly. It was as if every single part of him was just a bit wrong shaped, just missing one amino acid, enough to bring the whole body crashing down. Bucky remained his dutiful protector, a shadow glaring in the corner of hospital rooms for years. 

Steve’s gaze drifted to the clunky prosthetic. He truly hoped Tony Stark could make something better, something Bucky would be less embarrassed of. This program was a miracle from God, Steve decided, fingers smudging the ends of the Staten Island Ferry to make the curling water at its bow. They were going to make the most of this new chance, these new people.

“Hey Buck?”

The mist faded from his brother’s eyes and he quirked a smile and unfolded his arms, coming over to see his art. “Nice. I like the little old lady with the shopping cart. Looks just like Mrs. Rojas.”

Steve smiled, thinking of the loud sweet woman who had made amazing sugar cookies with bits of pepper. “Yeah. Hey Buck, play nice with everyone okay? New place, new start.”   
Bucky tensed before sighing and blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “Alright Squirt. I’ll try not to break anyone’s faces. Except for the Russian girl. She could totally kick my ass.”


End file.
